The Mates of Monsters
Chapter 47

"Mom?"

I pace in the bedroom, wearing my pajamas. I hold my phone out in front of me as I switch it to the speakerphone.

"Brigie? Honey, how are you? Is everything going okay? I haven't heard from you in almost two weeks."

"Sorry. David and I had to go to this thing, and now his father is here; I've just been busy."

"But everything's alright, isn't it? We're doing fine here. I saw Lindsey yesterday, and she told me to tell you that she's doing just great."

"Good," I sigh. "That's good to hear. Look, since David's father is here, he wants to bring the family together. He wants you and Dad to come for a visit, have dinner, see me, meet his father, you know."

"A visit?" She pauses. "I'll tell your father right when he gets home. W-When are we coming? How soon?"

"Oh, well, how about next week? Or is that too soon for Dad?"

"Too soon," she mocks, "nothing is too soon for you, Brigie. I have been waiting for this day, and if I have to drag your father by the scruff of his neck I will. We will be there. You tell the Alpha that we're coming, okay?"

I can't help but smile. "Okay. I will."

The sound of him coming down the hall triggers my finger and I switch it off of the speakerphone. "I have to go. We have an early morning tomorrow," I tell her. "But I'll send further details."

"Alright. You go on to bed, honey. I'll talk to you later."

David comes through the door and I say, "Okay. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Brigie."

I hang up and say, "That was my mother. I told them to come next week if that's alright."

"That's perfect," he clears and pulls off his shirt. I clench my teeth and spin away, placing my phone on the bedside table with the utmost precision. "He loves you," David says, talking about his father, "just like everyone else. He couldn't stop talking about how happy he is for us on our way to the guest house. I haven't seen him like this in a very, very long time."

We had a nice dinner, just the three of us. Ken asked me more about my proposition, which was easy for me to talk about. I got caught up on little questions about myself, but David knows the routine: when I start stumbling, he distracts. And I like it that way. "That's good," I say, looking to him, "I guess I couldn't have hoped for more. I mean, to be fair, your father is very gracious, especially for a previous Alpha."

"Are we not gracious?" David questions, playful.

"Maybe on the inside, for most Alphas, under all of that territorial, overbearing energy. But you-you're more than gracious."

He makes his way over and I can feel my body rile in eagerness, having waited too long for even an ounce of alleviation. My lips puff with blood, and I can feel it travel throughout my body, warm and pulsing, drawing me from my slumber.

His eyes cast downward and I cross my arms over my chest, pouting and hiding what I was previously unaware of. "Never mind," I say, "I take it back. You're just as bad as the rest of them."

"Is that so?" He asks as his hands caress my face. He watches my full lips-making me wait-watching as they press together and pull apart and breathe the softest of breaths. I squirm and almost beg until he finally lowers his lips to mine. He's a mouthful of ice water on these blazing summer days, and I push my body against his, against his muscle and strength. I open my mouth and let him dominate me.

And I'm in bliss. All of my darkness falls away, and there isn't a single cell in my body that would rather wallow. David holds my jaw as he uses me, and I know then that it's been too long for the both of us. He needs this just as badly as I do, and I am more than willing to give him what he wants. His touch makes me jump when his hand glides along my waist, first around to my back, then to the front again. I know what he's wanting to feel, so I take my own hand and guide him to my chest, telling him I want him to.

I break our kiss and peer down when he touches me over my shirt, massaging and driving me to a place I may not be able to come back from. I look up at him and he kisses me hard, easing us against the bed. I think about his hand on my skin and get stuck on the thought of ridding the fabric between us. I need my shirt off of me; I need him flush with me without a single thread in the way.

David sits me on the bed and grins against my swollen lips. My chin lifts to keep kissing him, but he hovers just out of reach and studies my face. My arms cross in front of me and my fingers grab the hem of my top. He's one step ahead of me, though, because just as I lift, his hands halt me. He knows, he's felt that there's nothing underneath-no bra to keep me halfway decent. "Brigette," he warns, his voice wrapping around me.

But I don't care, I slowly pull my shirt off of me and blind myself for the two seconds it takes to slide over my head. The wind filtering through the window gropes and kisses me, but David's eyes are heavy in my own. He can't help himself; he steals a peek and fists the blanket underneath me, breathing out his nose and clamping his jaw shut. "I'm yours," I say, hushed.

His head tilts and his brows pull together; his eyes fill with lust and he seems to say: Don't let me. I reach for him, but he turns away, stepping toward the tall, antique dresser. His hand grips the lip of its top slab and it cracks under his force, making me finch and cover myself with my arms. I take a quick breath in. "David?"

His elbows rest against the broken piece as his fingers weave together behind his head. I stand and rush into the bathroom, snatching my robe and throwing it on myself. I quickly tie it in place then try to help him. I run my palms over his shoulder and fit myself to where I can see his face. "I'm sorry," I gush. "I didn't mean to..."

He opens up for me and I slip between his arms, trapped as he holds onto the dresser with both hands, not trusting himself. I run my fingers through his hair and murmur, "We can just lay down. Won't you hold me? Please?"

David lets go of the splintered wood and comes back to me. I take his hand and he follows me to our bed, sitting on the edge. "Brigette, I..."

"Don't," I say. "It's okay."

"It's not," he mutters, wiping a hand down his face.

I move behind him and wrap my arms loosely around his neck, putting my chin on his shoulder. "You're mine, okay? And by now we know that I have a record of screwing things up. I've jumped out of a window to run away, gotten drunk at a business dinner more than once-most recently, I nearly started a war. Those things are not okay. This? Try harder next time and maybe you can get on my level."

I kiss his chiseled cheek and demand, "Now hold me so I can fall asleep."

And so he does.